One In A Million
by SisiDraig
Summary: Sequel to Estranged. What's going to happen when Howard is released from prison? - AU, Language.
1. Chapter 1

**I think some people asked for a sequel… okay, one person asked for a sequel… fine! I just wanted to write a sequel!**

**D/C: *sighs* The Mighty Boosh do not belong to me - they belong to all of us in the form of DVD's/ calendars/ posters/ books/ CDs…etc. But most of all, they belong to two people called Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt. **

**Where is Julian by the way? Does anyone know? According from Noel saying he's dead/ waiting for the fridge repair man/ half way up Kilimanjaro with his bassoon stuck in a crevice. (And if that's not a euphemism, I don't know what is…) but I'm 97% sure that he was joking.**

**Anyway… SEQUEL!**

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Howard knew he had an idiotic smile plastered across his face. He knew that he looked like a kid who'd eaten too many sweets. He knew that he was annoying his rather clingy, rather psychotically terrifying cellmate, Gregg. He knew all this but he didn't care.

"Why the fuck are you so happy?" growled Gregg.

"I'm getting out."

"Today?"

"In about ten minutes."

Gregg looked almost saddened by the idea and Howard shuddered. It's not that it hadn't crossed his mind that Gregg seemed to be infatuated with him but he'd tried to convince himself that any dubious acts Gregg had performed for him had only been because Gregg missed someone on the outside too. He'd guessed it might be bordering on obsession. He'd guessed years ago when he'd found hundreds of watercolours of himself stuffed under Gregg's mattress. ("D'you like 'em Howard? I drew 'em all for you. I call this one Howard Moon and I call this one Howard Moon and this one…" Suddenly, Gregg snatched the next picture away roughly. "Not that one. That one's for me. But this one, d'you know what I call this one?" "Howard Moon?" "No. I call this one 'Just Howard'.") Howard had wanted to know at the time what the mysterious picture was but as Gregg pulled it out from under his pillow now and handed it to Howard, he began to wonder why he'd ever wanted to see it.

"It's you." Gregg unhelpfully supplied.

"Yeah."

"Bumming me."

"Yeah."

"It's very accurate… there's you and there's me and there's the bumming."

"Mmm."

"D'you like it Howard?"

"Umm, not really Gregg, no."

"Oh. You know Howard, maybe you could punch the, the officer wh-when he comes along. Y-you just punch him on the nose and then you could, s-st-stay here with me for a while... or f-f-forever"

"No thank you Gregg, I've been waiting 10 years for this."

"Ten years, that's a long time Howard. World's changed, fashion's changed, worst of all people's changed. You got anyone waiting for you o-on the outside Howard?"

"I don't know." Howard answered honestly.

"M-maybe you should stay here then… with Old Greggory."

"Mmm."

"That a yes?"

"That's a 'Thank you no'."

Gregg continued to gabble the benefits of staying in the cell with him but Howard's mind was on something else, or, more specifically, on someone else. He'd thought about Vince every spare second he had and in prison there were lots of spare seconds for thinking. Howard hoped beyond hope that Vince would be there but he knew the kid fell in love too easily. Howard would be just a distant foggy memory by now, if he were even a memory at all.

He couldn't think about it for too long. The thought of Vince belonging to someone else got his short fuse to spark dangerously but he held it together. He only had five minutes left. Now, was not the time to lose it.

The time to move at a snails pace. The second hand on his watch quivering and not moving about four times before it finally succumbed to it's purpose and clicked once to show the passing of one measly second. Howard counted 302 of these excruciatingly slow seconds and then the cell door swung open and a warden barked;

"Moon. Time's up. Let's go."

Howard was marched straight out of the cell and was dimly aware of Gregg howling in the distance. He passed any number of criminals, blokes he'd known from before, blokes he'd got to know. A few who'd known him but that he didn't know. They'd been his favourite. The ones who'd heard rumours of the things he'd done. They'd scampered around like terrified rats and he'd felt like king. As he was taken past, a few of them mouthed something along the lines of;

'Can you get me a job when I get out of here?'

He just ignored them all and allowed himself to be taken away further from them and closer to freedom… closer to Vince? He picked up his stuff from the room and said goodbye cheerily to the warden.

"Don't get to smug Moon." smirked the warden. "You'll be back soon enough."

"I won't." Moon assured him.

"What? You going straight?"

"Nah, I just ain't gonna get caught."

And with that, Howard left, triumphant and free.

Just as he was internally congratulating himself on getting out on first parole, a loud car horn screamed through his subconscious. His neck snapped up to glare at the offending car. There, in the near distance along the long deserted road was a red Porsche, _his _red Porsche, gleaming in the struggling May sunlight. Or maybe it was gleaming from the dazzling light that seemed to shine from the young man sat on the bonnet.

"Alright Howard." called the accompanying voice. "How was the holiday?"

Howard smirked. "Get off the boot you fucker. You'll scratch the paint work."

"Wanker." grinned Vince, sliding off the bonnet lazily.

As Howard got close he could see Vince's eye, bluer than he remembered, his smile, more blinding than he remembered, his hair better kept than he remembered and he was older too but he was still perfect. He was always perfect. Howard held out his arms, itching for the embrace he'd craved for all those years. But it never came. What actually came was pain as Vince's fist connected with Howard's face in a nose-breaking crack.

Howard doubled over clutching his bloody nose shouting endless obscenities.

"That," said Vince pointedly, "was for agreeing to rat me out to the police… but this," he continued, pulling Howard in for a gut-wrenching, searing kiss that burned right through them both leaving them shivering as they broke apart. "is for taking the fall."

"Mm, well." Howard mumbled, his brain spinning in a baffled mess.

Vince leant his forehead against Howard's and whispered; "I love you."

"Mm."

"You bastard!" Vince shrieked, pushing Howard away. "I've waited ten years to here you say it back in person and all you can manage is 'mm'." Vince got in the car and locked the door.

"Alright, alright. I love you." Howard said through the window, pulling desperately at the handle.

'What?' Vince mouthed, pointing at his ear, 'I can't hear you.'

"I said I love you." Howard frowned, torn between wanting to smash the window and protecting his precious car.

Vince just shrugged and pointed again at the ear.

"Open the fucking door!" Howard yelled.

Vince opened the window so that the tiniest sliver of the real world could be seen and said; "Not until you say the magic word."

"Please." Howard said through gritted teeth.

"That's not it. I meant word-**s**. Three of them to be precise."

"I've said it twice now."

"Three times makes it real."

"Tough. Open the bloody door."

"No." pause. "Howard?"

"What?" was the irritable reply.

"Am I a statistic?"

"What?"

"Am I one of 10% you could spend your life with?"

"No."

"But you said that love wasn't real."

"I know but I didn't… look Vince, you're it. One in a million. I swear."

"I'm one in more than that."

"Yeah, but then the numbers get too high and you'd get confused." Howard smirked.

"Fuck you!" Vince retorted angrily but he failed to stop the grin that was creeping up onto his face. "Now, get in so we can get home." he unlocked the car and Howard clambered in to the passenger seat. "You've got ten years of making up to do, you better be feeling fit."


	2. Chapter 2

Vince stretched an arm out in the direction of bedside table and mumbled something inaudible.

"huh?" Howard asked, as he brushed the other man's hair with his fingers.

"Need a cig." was the whiney, muffled response.

"You're half asleep, if you smoke now you'll set fire to the bed."

The younger man rolled round to look at Howard and smiled sleepily.

"But I always have a fag after mind-blowing sex."

Howard smiled and leant over the younger man, kissing him sweetly, as he fumbled blindly at the bedside table trying to find the small box.

"Where are they?"

"Draw." was the mumble.

"When did you do this place up anyway?" Howard asked, looking around the carpeted, furnished attic space.

"Ages ago. Used the money from the job on Cadburys. That was the best. £50,000 and more chocolate than you could dream of."

"50?" Howard asked as his fingers brushed with a half empty box of fags. Howard didn't want to think about what, or _who_ had caused the use of the other half. "I'd have thought you'd have got more than that."

"Well, Bollo and Hitcher did didn't they. Not me though, coz I was just a kid back then."

"Right."

Howard lit a cigarette and took a long drag before pressing it to Vince lips. He took a couple of puffs before lolling back onto the pillows and cuddling up to Howard. His eyes closed, his breathing shallow Vince looked like some kind of male model, beautiful and innocent. Howard couldn't help but smile as he took another long drag from the cigarette.

"Stop it."

Howard jumped. He was sure Vince had been asleep.

"What?"

"Stop watching me when I'm sleeping. It's weird."

Howard chuckled to himself, as he stubbed the fag out. "I haven't seen you for ten years. I've missed you."

"You've gone soft, old man." Vince scorned, his voice quiet and heavy with sleep.

"I haven't. I ain't gonna forgive you for not coming to see me. Not even once. Not even in disguise."

"Hitcher wouldn't let me. Reckoned I'd get arrested too."

"He looked out for you then?"

"Yeah. Kicked me out after a year though."

"Why?"

"He was sick of me and he was terrified you were gonna turn up and twist his neck clean off his body. Every time he yelled at me, he'd look around all nervous like you'd jump out from behind a plant and gun him down. Then he realised you weren't gonna turn up and he got less nervous."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, course not. Just told me to get out. Like I said he was sick of me. I ain't even lived with you that long, you'll be sick of me after a year and all."

"Never."

"Told you you'd gone soft." Vince smiled, bumping their noses together gently. "And he wouldn't let me keep Naboo at the house so I had to mo-"

"Oh not that fucking cat!" Howard cut in angrily. "Isn't it dead yet?"

"Fuck you." Vince snapped, turning away from Howard and shuffling to the far edge of the bed huffily. Howard didn't care. He wasn't going to apologize to the twat.

"How did you drive my car? You didn't have the keys." he said eventually.

It took a while for the answer to come, as though Vince had considered blanking him as some kind of punishment for insulting Naboo but he was too proud of his achievement not to say anything at all.

"I Hotwired it." he said smugly

"You can hotwire a car?" smirked Howard.

"Fuck you. I'm not as shit at being a criminal as you think I am."

"Ha! You're just as shit at being a criminal as I think you are." Howard said softly, tracing a finger down Vince's protruding vertebrae "who taught you that?" he added as he began to walk his fingers back up, marvelling at how soft and delicate he seemed, knowing he was neither.

"Hitcher. He's taught me a whole load of new things."

Howard felt almost saddened by this. Somehow, lying with Vince in this attic had made him forget that the last ten years had existed it at all. He forgot that Vince 'the naïve kid with a knife' was now Vince 'the streetwise man with a gun'. He forgot that everything had carried on just as it had before. He forgot that whilst he'd spent all his time in the cell Vince had been getting on with his life. His thoughts returned to the empty box of post-sex fags.

"Vince?" he whispered, hardly wanting to disturb the peace. This was something that was burning every which way inside him. The thing that he both needed to know and was terrified of knowing."Mm." was the sleepy response.

"Has there been anyone else… whilst I was banged up?"

The silence that followed was louder and said more than any words ever could. Howard pulled his hand away from the younger man and through gritted teeth he uttered;

"That's a 'yes' then?"

"Howard." Vince began slowly, carefully picking his words. "I think it would be better if neither of us ask questions we don't want to know the answer to."

"That is a 'yes'." Howard felt his anger sparking.

"That's a 'drop it'."

"And what d'you mean _neither_ of us should ask questions? I've been in prison, what exactly could I have done?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"What?!" Howard was riled and even more irritatingly, Vince now appeared to be having the time of his life.

"Who's Gregg?" he said with smug certainty.

"Ho- wh- Y-… what?" Howard said, corpsing like an under-rehearsed actor, though, to be fair, no amount of rehearsing would have prepared him for what came next. "I found a picture." Vince smiled somewhat triumphantly, getting laboriously out of the bed and picking his way through the scattered clothes until he found Howard's jacket. He went rummaging in the pocket and pulled out a crumpled picture.

"To Howard." he read aloud, "I drew this so you wouldn't forget the cell-times."

Howard cursed himself for ever taking the time to teach Vince to read.

"And there's a picture." the younger man continued, "Umm, that's you, the aggressor, as always, and I'm assuming that's him. He seems to be enjoying himself." Vince was giggling by now, "look at that big smile on his face. And here's a speech bubble of him asking if you love him. You better have said 'no'."

"That didn't even happen." Howard growled.

"Bullshit! Look how red and shifty you've gone." he shrieked indignantly, then he walked back to the bed slowly and smiled softly, saying; "I don't mind though. Ten years is a long time, right? But if I ever see this Gregg bloke. I'm gonna stab him up until he's bleeding from places he didn't know existed, capiche?"

"Capiche? Why're you talking like a Italian mafia man?"

"Eh" Vince said in a fairly convincing Italian accent, "I am Italianano, no. My momma, she make-a the best pizzas, they are just-a…mwah." he kissed the ends of his fingers and grinned at Howard broadly, who just looked back and said;

"What the hell was that?"

"Good, weren't it? I went undercover in an Italian restaurant last year. I reckon I make a good Italian."

"No, your too pale."

"Get screwed."

"So, did you meet these people you fucked at the restaurant?"

"Stop asking questions when you know the answers gonna make you mad." Vince sighed, sitting heavily on the end of the bed.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"What're you gonna do if I tell you? Shoot em?"

"Maybe." Howard replied casually, he hadn't really thought that far ahead."Where would that leave us, eh? You banged up for another ten years. Probably longer. And I swear to God Howard, if you go back inside, I ain't gonna wait for you again."

"You didn't exactly wait this time!" roared Howard, something inside him snapping as hideous images popped mercilessly into his head. One after the other, his heart cracking a little as each one appeared. Each more graphic than the last.

"Calm down Howard. None of them meant anything, they were just nameless, faceless strangers who helped me through the nights when I missed you the most.""None of them?!" Howard was beside himself, he was being driven by something else. And it was something else that slapped Vince so hard his neck nearly snapped and it was something else that left Vince clutching at his face, whimpering softly and it was something else that went to sleep on the old familiar sofa.

However, it was Howard that Vince found an hour later, led on the sofa with red, bloodshot eyes (not from crying but because "I'm allergic to… flowers" "There aren't any flowers in the room Howard." "Shut up."). And it was Howard, who let Vince curl up at his side on the tiny sofa and it was Howard who pressed a gentle kiss into the black hair, whispering tearfully (damned allergies striking up again); "I love you… so much".


	3. Chapter 3

**Dedicated to Booshlover! I was going to dedicate the last chapter but I didn't really feel it was much of a dedication! This one's better (at least I think it is - lol) And it's longer as well!**

**Anyway… enjoy!**

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The low sun crept softly under the thick black curtains and landed gently on the carpet, making the lint dance in it's early summer light. There was some rustling and Howard was snoring lightly but the silence was dominant, wrapping itself around the room like a warm soft blanket. And then;

"Ow! Shit! Fuck!"

Howard shot bolt upright. Pointing his gun in the direction of the shouts and hisses. He leant over and flicked a light switch.

"Vince?" he groaned, as the younger man came into view, hopping around holding his stubbed toe. "What the fuck are you doing?" Howard ran his hand down his face in a hopeless attempt to wake himself up a bit more as he lowered his gun.

"I'm getting ready for work." Vince answered, still rushing around the attic looking for his favourite shoes.

"Work?" Howard called as Vince disappeared behind him.

"Yeah," came the muffled shout. "it's what normal people do to pay for things."

"But you're not normal."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean, you don't need to work."

"I know but Hitcher and Bollo never give me the money I deserve and I get bored in between jobs. Anyway, I like being a hairdresser."

"A hairdresser?" Howard chuckled.

"Yes. And stop smirking, it's fun. You get to hear all the gossip."

"Like…"

"Like Mrs Richard's next door neighbour's steamy affair with the pub landlord."

Howard raised an eyebrow and flopped back onto the sofa, resting his gun on his stomach. Vince eyed it a little angrily;

"Where did you get that from?"

"The side of the sofa, I always keep it with me"

Vince frowned but decided to leave it there.

"So…" he said turning to face Howard for the first time, exposing an ugly purple-black bruise down the left side of his face. "how do I look?"

"Shit." whistled Howard quietly. "Was that where I…"

"You don't look much better yourself old man." he grinned, "nice black eye you got coming there."

Howard frowned in puzzlement and rose to his feet to look in the massive mirror that was hung on the wall. He wrapped his arms around Vince's middle and peered over his shoulder. In the mirror, he saw the beginnings of a fresh bruise growing around his own eye.

"We're a real couple of thugs."

"I know." agreed Vince. "we've been back together a day, look at the state of us."

Howard smiled and kissed the back of Vince's neck. "Don't go to work today." he mumbled against the warm skin.

"I have to."

"Well, what are you going to say happened to your face?"

Vince shrugged, as much to answer the question, as to remove Howard from him before the attraction got too strong and he was pulling off his neatly arranged outfit.

"I guess I'll say I got in a fight. That's believable, right?"

Howard took a step back and looked Vince's get-up up and down; "No"

"Screw you." Vince grinned, kissing him chastely before looking at the clock on the wall.

"Ahh, I'm gonna be late." As he dashed from the flat, he called back; "Can I borrow the car?"

"No."

"Thank you."

Less than thirty seconds later, Howard heard the beautiful roaring of a V8 engine and the screeching of brand new tires as Vince sped down the road, kicking up dust like in a bad 80's gun-movie and it felt like no time had passed since Vince had been infuriating him all those years ago.

--

Howard wasn't used to space and he wasn't used to being alone. He hadn't once been a alone in over ten years. Even the tiny attic felt too big and too empty without Vince. It was also, he rapidly realised, too quiet. He watched TV for a bit but had quickly turned off when the moustached idiot who presented Bargain Hunt popped on his screen, concluding that he would never be _that_ bored.

--

He played with Naboo. Yes, he was _that _bored. The cat mewed softly, licking his hands as though remembering something familiar but it wasn't long before Howard was pushing it away and washing his slimy hand repeatedly under the tap.

--

He'd made the bed. Then, realising this meant he'd turn into some horrible cliché of a housewife, he ripped the sheets off again and threw them in a crumpled heap on to the mattress. _That'll show Vince. _he thought.

--

Made sandwich, put sandwich on plate, took sandwich to sofa, sat down. Ate sandwich… Still bored.

--

Mid-afternoon Howard decided to go for a drive, having completely forgotten that Vince had taken his car. It was, however, the final straw to see the empty parking space and Howard released his anger by putting a few bullets through a weird statue by the entrance of the abandoned old-Chinese restaurant. He felt better.

"Oi Moon. Vince is not gonna like that. That was his favourite gnome." A gnome? Was that what it was? In the centre of London? Maybe Vince really was mad. "He named it Charlie after a piece of chewing gum." No 'maybe' about it all Howard could find to say was;

"It's a bubble gum actually." and, not bothering to turn around; "Alright Hitcher."

"Nice to see you out Moon. Though I didn't think here's the first place you'd have come."

"Vince came and got me, didn't he?" Howard shrugged, finally catching the cold eye of his longest accomplice. "He drove, s'not like I had much choice where I went."

"So where is he?"

"Work."

"Ah yes. Hairdresser. He's such a stereotype of a queer, it's almost offensive. S'why I kicked him out in the end. Kid's bedroom needed a revolving door."

Hitcher watched with mutilated interest as Howard clenched his fists so that his knuckles drained of colour and his nails dug into his palm."Are you here for a reason?" he asked through gritted teeth, "Or are you just here to insult my…" Howard didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"My… what?" Hitcher probed interestedly.

"Nothing."

"Come on Moon. What is so important about him? You took the fall for him. You brought up the Rio thing so I'd look out for him. Unless, you and he are…" Howard's gut churned furiously. _You've had it now. _Shut up brain. "… Is he blackmailing you?"

Howard let out a sigh of relief and then, never one to miss a glorious lifeline like this one, said; "Yes, blackmail that's it. He's blackmailing me."

"I knew it."

"Yes, you did."

"Bollo reckoned you loved him but he's a dickhead. I told him, I said; 'you're a dickhead'."

"Sure is."

--

Hitcher didn't stay long, partly because Howard wouldn't let him and partly because he'd suddenly decided he had a new job to be getting on with. A few hours later Howard received a text saying simply;

**Sent: 17:03  
****Date: 23/4/2009  
Sender: Hitcher**

Job finished. You're  
free.

Howard read it, then he read it again, then for a third time. No, it still didn't make sense, so he dropped the phone onto a coffee table and continued to wait for Vince. Not that he'd really admit to himself that that was what he was doing.

--

Howard Frisbeed another ace of spades card at the dust bin, missing by mere millimetres. He groaned loudly and an internal commentator in his head said;

"The crowd didn't like that one."

Howard gritted his teeth and pulled the next card from the pack, six of clubs. _This time. _he sighed. He held the card in two fingers and flung it towards the bin, missing by miles this time.

"The crowd thought that one was shit." the voice in his head came again, louder, with a bit of a chuckle and not altogether in his head. His hand moved slowly to the gun in his pocket, his fingers clasped around the handle. He turned quickly pointing his gun at…

"Bollo?" he questioned, lowering the gun with a distinct look of disappointment in his eyes. "How the hell did you get in here

Vince gave me a key." was the gruff response as the ape-like man settled on the sofa next to Howard.

"He _gave _you a key?"

"Yeah"

"Why?"

"We used this place as a hideout for a while after the bank job ten years ago and I kept my key in case of emergencies." Howard raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Look Howard, when he moved in here, he was a depressed fucking moron with a gun. I made him give me a key coz I was fairly sure he was gonna try and kill himself. And I figured you wouldn't be too happy about that."

Howard shrugged, trying to seem blasé but the smirk on Bollo's face told him he'd failed miserably.

He ignored this and removed another card from the quickly diminishing packet and carefully aimed it in the direction of the bin.

"Why are you here anyway?" he asked as the card landed neatly in his glass of whiskey a good three foot short of the intended target.

"Thought I'd see if prison had driven you mad… And apparently it has." he added as Howard pulled the card out of his drink, downed the brown liquid and took another shot at the bin with the card (he missed). "What the hell are you doing?"

"A few of us used to play it inside."

"Did you ever win?"

"No," Howard admitted, "I never actually scored a point."

"Yeah, well you were never good at sports were you."

"Shut up."

Bollo grimaced, which Howard knew was as close to smiling as Bollo got. Then he said something so completely out of the blue that Howard threw his glass at the bin instead of a card.

"What?" Howard gawped, quickly picking up the shards of glass, wincing as one went into his thumb drawing just the tiniest bubble of red blood.

"I said," repeated Bollo infuriatingly slowly, "Did you really tell Hitcher to kill Vince?"

"No." Howard was as white as a ghost. "Why would you ask that?"

"Hitcher reckoned he'd spoken to you earlier and you said that Vince was bribing you and you wanted him gone."

"I didn't say anything like that."

"Didn't think you would of."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious you're fucking him, you woofta."

"You're a sick man."

"I'm right though, in I?"

"No." Howard lied coolly. He was good at lying, he'd made a living from it. He could lie to anyone. Well anyone except Vince. That little shit saw through every lie he'd ever told.

"So why're you so desperate to keep him safe then?"

"He's my nephew." Even Howard was proud with how quickly he'd come up with that lie.

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Sister. Older, Lucy." The lies kept coming, flowing so easily, like water from a tap and Bollo lapped them up like a thirsty puppy. "She'll kill me if anything happens to him and I'll never forgive myself. What did Hitcher say he was going to do?" He asked as he searched feverishly for his phone.

"Take a break."

"What? That doesn't even make sense."

"Nope I know. Just thought I'd warn you that your 'nephew'" - cough - "Bullshit" - cough - "might be in some kind of trouble." Oh. Maybe his lying hadn't been as fluid as he thought. Well, he _was_ ten years out of practise. But all he said in return was;

"Nasty cough you've got there."

"I know. I hope I'm not coming down with that sickness you've got."

"What sickness?"

"_Love _sick."

"You're a fucking twat."

"And your fucking a twat."

"He's not a twat."

"But you are fucking him." Bollo grinned triumphantly.

Bugger. "Fuck off." was all Howard could manage as he produced a ten year old phone from his jacket pocket and quickly punched in the numbers. It rang for what seemed like a lifetime and then;

"_Hello."_

"Vince, oh thank god you're alright. Where ar-"

"_Hello._"

"Yeah, hello. Listen. I want you to st-"

"_Hello, is there anybody in there._"

"Stop messing about this is imp-"

"_Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?_"

"Are you… singing Pink Floyd at me?"

"_I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone. Iiiiiii have become comfortably numb._"

"Vince!"

"_Hey, turns out I'm not here at the moment but if you wanna say some words after the bleep then I might ring you back later. Depends what words you say and whether I like you or not. After this bleep BLEEP."_

"Right Vince, th-"

"_Wait, not that one. Ha! Had you though didn't I? Right, after this bleep, BLEEP._"

"Ring me as soon as you get this, I need to know that yo-"

"_HA! Did you start leaving you message again? Oh my god, this is so funny. Right leave a message for real now, seriously, I've run out of credit and I ain't got no one to give me money for more. Real bleep coming now." _**Bleep.**

"Vince, you're a twat." Howard hung up angrily.

"About the most annoying thing you've ever heard, right?" Bollo asked, a knowing smirk plastered across his squashy, ugly ape-face.

"Put it this way, if he ain't already dead… I'm gonna kill him." Then Howard went white again as the words he'd just spoken reached his ears. "Shit." he whispered, a sick feeling building up in his stomach. "What if he's…?" Howard stared with blank insanity at the wall before concluding; "I need another drink."

He poured a shot of whiskey into a glass, looked at it and then took a swig straight from the bottle.

--

It was late by now. Really late. Surely Vince should be home. Howard ran his clammy hands through his hair, muttering streams of expletives to himself. He'd never felt so lost. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like it. He was the notorious Howard Moon, who always knew what to do in any circumstance. But for the first time in his life he felt completely helpless. Bollo was still there, hovering around like an annoying fly you can't quite swat.

Just then, Howard's phone rang. He leapt to his feet and scrambled around for it in sheer desperation.

"Hello." he gasped, when he'd finally got it open.

"_Howard_!" came Vince's excitable shout. Howard breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "_Why am I a twat_?"

"Where are you?"

"_Driving home. Why? You miss me_?"

"No."

"_Thanks_." Vince said angrily.

"That's not what I… never mind. Look, have you seen Hitcher at all today?"

"_No_."

"Good."

"_Why_?"

"No reason."

"_Riiight, you've gone mad… Howard_?"

"Yes?"

"_I think you need to get your brakes fixed in your car. There not very good_."

"Not very good? They should be fine maybe it's your drivi-… wait. Did you say brakes?"

"_Yeah_."

And then it dawned on him. Hitcher wasn't going to take a break in the KitKat sense of the words. He was going to take a _brake_. The brakes… from Howard's car.

"Vince, you have to get out of there."

"_What_?" came the puzzled reply.

"Look, that car is death trap. Just pull over and get out_._"

_"Alright, calm down, calm down. I'll pull over in a lay by just up the road."_

"Good."

"_How am I supposed to get home then though?"_

"Ummm." Howard looked around the room and grinned. "Bollo will come and get you." Maybe the oaf did have a purpose."I'll what?"

"_He'll what?_"

"Yeah just-"

_"Shit! Howard!"_

"What?! What is it?"

"_The brakes are fucked. I can't stop."_

"What?"

_"Howard… what do I do?"_

"Jump out."

_"I can't"_

"Yes you can. Please Vince. Get out."

_"Howard! Howard!"_

"Vince."

_"Ohmygod! Howard. Howard I'm gonna die."_

"No you're not."

_"I am. I can't stop. Shit Howard. It's getting faster. Howard. Help. Howard."_

"Just jump out."

"_I can't… I'm… too scared. Howard, I love you… I love you."_

"I love you."

"_Howard. Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"_

Dial tone.

--

**I know I'm mean!**

**The Song is Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Sisi…xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hiya! It has been brought to my attention by a friend of mine that in the last chapter the language got **_**really**_** bad and frequent. Just wondering if people think I should put the rating up to cover myself??**

**Also, this is a quick update, right? Hopefully, you wont think i'm so mean now =]!**

**Anyway… enjoy!**

* * *

"Argh!" Howard threw the mobile wildly at the wall. It shattered just millimetres from Bollo's head, who's eyes widened to terrified proportions. Howard dropped to his knees and beat the floor with his fists.

"Howard… what the hell are you doing?"

Howard's head snapped up. "We need your car."

"What?"

"Come on. We have to find him."

--

Howard hadn't spoken since they'd got in the car. He hadn't explained to Bollo why he was driving excruciatingly slowly down the roads. He didn't bother explaining why he slammed the his foot on the brakes when he suddenly saw the beat up red Porsche buried in a statue on a roundabout.

Howard leapt out of the car, leaving it across the middle of the road. The sound of the horns behind them were thunderous but Howard was deaf to it. He just ran towards the wreckage, which was surrounded by police tape and a few nosey pedestrians.

"Excuse me." Howard called as he pushed his way past the reluctant crowd. "Excuse me. Oi. Fucking move!"

Eventually, he shoved someone right over in desperation and climbed over the police tape.

"Excuse me sir. You can't come in here." A young policeman called.

"But that's my…" _Boyfriend? Lover? Friend? _"… car."

"Oh. Right. What's your name sir?"

Damn. What name had he used to buy this car?

"Boom. Harold Boom."

"Right." He said, tapping something into a small machine. Obviously coming up with a positive match, he continued; "Do you know who was driving your car Mr Boom?"

"Ummm, yeah. My…" _Boyfriend? Lover? Friend? _"…nephew. How is he?"

"I'm very sorry to tell you this sir but, he's moved on."

Howard felt a lump rising in his throat, tears pressing painfully at the back of his eyes. He felt sick and numb. He felt like the world was closing in on him, stealing his breath.

"Dead?" he gasped.

"No. Missing."

"Missing?" Howard blinked. "What d'you mean, missing?"

"Well, when we got on the scene, the car was empty."

"So he's…"

"Gone. Yes. We assumed the car had been stolen and the driver had just run away but you gave him permission to be driving, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Right, well after the detectives have found the reason for the crash."

"Check the brakes." Howard muttered.

"Sorry sir?"

"Nothing. What were you saying?"

"That after we've found the reason for the crash, we're going to have to log this as a missing person case and we'll get right on to finding him."

"Thanks."

"What's your nephews name?"

Howard knew he couldn't tell the truth. He couldn't trust the police to snoop around in his life without finding out other, less desirable things.

"His names… Kirk."

"Kirk Boom?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"What's he look like?"

"He's a fat kid. His mum only feeds him chocolate."

"Age?"

"17. He's blonde… short hair. He's about 5"2. Maybe shorter…" Howard poured the lies to the policeman, who quickly scribbled them down.

"And could I have a number Mr Boom, to contact you with I mean?"

Howard made up a number off the top of his head, which consisted mainly of noughts and threes.

"That's an unusual number sir."

"Mm." Howard mumbled as he walked away from the scene towards Bollo, who'd since moved the car and was now just leant against it looking angry.

"You spoke to that piece of scum for a long time."

"Mmm."

"How's Vince?"

"Gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone. There was no one in the car when they found it."

"So he panicked and left. Ring him."

"I broke my phone." Howard reminded him angrily.

"Use mine." He handed it to Howard, who looked at it blankly. "Don't play like you don't know his number off by heart."

Howard sighed, took the phone and punched in the numbers. He almost screamed when Vince's answer phone message took him for a fool again.

"Not there?" Bollo asked casually, after Howard had kicked a the nearest object (a lamp post).

Howard didn't answer. He just got in the car in complete silence, mulling silently over the possibilities of where Vince could be.

--

That evening Bollo decided he would stay at the attic.

"I'll sleep over here though." he said, pulling the sofa further still from the bed. "Don't want you thinking I'm Vince and, oh, I don't know… trying to bum me in my sleep."

"…"

"Howard… Howard. It's okay you know, if you love him."

Howard remained silent and got in the bed.

"Where does he sleep? I mean there's a sofa and a double bed. Is he in the double bed with you?"

"…"

"Shall I shut up?"

"Hmph." Howard turned his back on Bollo and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep.

Bollo did and he snored, which didn't help Howard's insomnia but he knew he wouldn't have slept anyway. His mind was racing. Hitcher, could Hitcher have taken Vince from the car? Did Vince just run away? If so, why hadn't he come home? Was he…dead? Howard sat up. He couldn't deal with this not knowing. He dressed quickly and tried to hotwire Bollo's car. He couldn't, which made him furious. Why was it so difficult? Vince could do it. Vince. Vince. Vince.

Eventually, he gave up and chose to walk to the closest 24hour supermarket and bought 2 bottles of vodka, 1 box of wine and a few cases of beer. That should be enough to make him forget… or kill him. Either way, he wasn't bothered. By the time he got back to the attic, he was already drunk. He crashed around the flat, tripping over things and breaking everything, until he collapsed unconscious onto the soft bed.

"Hi bed." he mumbled as he drifted off into an alcohol induced coma.

--

He spent the entire of the next day hovering around the toilet and telling Bollo to make less noise.

"Why the hell are you here anyway?" he snapped eventually, when Bollo had put on some music. Gary fucking Numan. Vince's CD. Vince. Vince. Vince.

"I'm looking after you."

"I'm forty one I don't need looking after."

"Yeah, well…"

"Yeah, well… what?" Howard asked, as he heaved over the toilet bowl again.

"Vince didn't need looking after either but you still made Hitcher do it."

"He was a stupid kid in way over his head and you know it."

"Like you are now you mean."

"What? When did you get so fucking cryptic?" he heaved again. His guts aching as he slumped back against the wall.

"Look, all I'm saying is, you're in over in your head too… in love."

"I'm not it love."

"I heard you on the phone. You told him you loved him."

"Yeah… well."

"And he's the first person you saw when you got out of prison."

"Yeah, coz he…"

"And you keep calling this shithole home, when we all know you've got that place in Scotland."

"Yeah, but that's a long way…"

"And he ain't your fucking nephew!"

"No, but that doesn't mean I lo-…"

"_And_, you've already virtually admitted your fucking him, so…"

"**Alright!**" Howard bellowed, before clutching his throbbing head and retching again.

"Alright, what?" Bollo asked, slipping his hands into his pockets and slouching against the wall.

"Alright." Howard breathed. "I know he's a fucking idiot and I know I should have shot him years ago and I know that he's useless at, well… everything. And I know he's the most annoying twat that's ever walked the planet but…" he sighed. "I love him, yeah."

Bollo just stared for a second and said; "Right." and; "Well, I'd better be going."

"What?"

"Yeah. I'll see you, later or something."

Howard didn't see him later. Howard didn't see anybody for the rest of the day, for the rest of the week. He just stayed in bed and drank, waiting for some kind of sign that Vince was alive but none came. None ever came.

* * *

"…_Oh my god, this is so funny. Right leave a message for real now, seriously, I've run out of credit and I ain't got no one to give me money for more. Real bleep coming now." _**Bleep.**

Howard wasn't sure how many millions of times he'd listened to this infuriating message now, just so he could hear Vince's voice but this was the first time he actually spoke after the bleep.

"Hi Vince. I know you wont get this but… I need you to know that I miss you. I'm nothing without you. I used to be so strong before you. I used to be cold and manipulative but now… if you could see me…. I'm a mess. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I love you Vince." Vince. Vince. Vince.

--

No one had phoned. No one had come to see him. No one had wanted him to get them a job. No one had wanted him to do a job. No one wanted him. He was useless.

--

Howard was led on his sofa, Naboo snuggling on his stomach, half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He couldn't remember drinking the rest of it but his throbbing head and dry tongue suggested he probably had.

Suddenly, there was a crash from downstairs. Howard knew the door had been kicked open. Was he being robbed? Why? He had nothing worth taking. He considered getting his gun but it was all those meters away on the coffee table and he really couldn't be bothered. What did it matter anyway? No one would miss him if he died. No one would even care. Maybe it was his time. He'd always known he wouldn't grow old anyway and he hadn't had a bad life, all things considered.

So, with all these depression-fuelled thoughts running through his head, by the time the door opened, Howard was ready. Ready but not prepared. Not prepared for exactly who was going to walk through the door.

"Hitcher?" Howard frowned, digging his knuckles into his eyes and forcing away the last feelings of drowsiness.

"Howard Moon." Hitcher growled, moving inside followed by Bollo, then he made a big show of sniffing. "Something die in here Moon?"

"What do you want?"

"I said, did something die in here?" Hitcher repeated, lifting up his revolver and breathing on it before cleaning off the residue.

"You gonna kill me?" Howard asked calmly, looking in almost bored fashion at the gun.

"No. I was gonna leave that to my number two."

Howard's eyes flicked to Bollo. "So _you're _gonna kill me."

Bollo shook his thick head.

"No." came a voice from out of view. "I am."

Howard looked up at the doorway. Stood there was a man, puffing so hard on a cigarette that the smoke completely obscured his features. He was wearing heavy black boots and a clichéd leather jacket and Howard knew this man had long black hair and large blue eyes. He didn't need to see the man's face. He knew exactly who it was. He'd seen him every night in his dreams since they'd met.

"Vince?" he breathed. "Why?"

Vince said nothing. He just took another long drag on his cigarette and stared heartlessly at the broken man in front of him.

"He's gonna do it Moon," Hitcher stepped in. "because _you _are weak. We all agreed right at the beginning that we couldn't play this game if you ever fell in love."

"I ain't in love." Howard lied weekly, avoiding Vince's stare. Though he needn't have bothered. Vince didn't flinch. He clearly didn't care.

"Bullshit. I've got proof." Bollo smiled proudly, taking a small black box out of his pocket.

"What's that?" Howard asked suspiciously.

"Talkbox." Bollo whispered. Then he pushed play and Howard's own voice flooded the room.

"I know he's a fucking idiot and I know I should have shot him years ago and I know that he's useless at, well… everything. And I know he's the most annoying twat that's ever walked the planet but I love him, yeah." Followed by the sound of retching. Howard winced. And then; "Gorilla."

Everyone turned to look at Bollo. "What the hell was that?" asked Hitcher. Bollo shrugged as the American voice came from the talk box again. "Man." and ; "Note to self; I hate whites."

"Where the hell did you get that thing?"

Bollo shrugged again, "Robbed it off a fat American man."

"Gorilla."

"Will you pause it!" Hitcher practically yelled.

Bollo quickly paused the tape and ignoring Vince's poorly suppressed giggles, Hitcher looked at Howard.

"Point is Moon." he hissed. "You're in love. You're weak and now you're dead."

"But you didn't kill Vince."

"He wasn't in love." Hitcher smirked. "Or if he was. Ten years is a long time. He got over you pretty damn quickly."

Howard's heart plummeted. "What?" His eyes flicked from Hitcher to Vince. "But you said, the other day… you said" he said, standing up for the first time, begging Vince with his eyes.

"I lied." shrugged the younger man, puffing again on his cigarette.

"But on the phone… you crashed. You said…"

"I lied." Vince repeated coolly. "I was naïve before but I've learnt. Hitcher's taught me. I'm not weak anymore."

"And obviously the crash wasn't real." Hitcher smirked. "We were all in it from the beginning. We needed to proove that you'd gone weak since prison and judging by the state of you and of this place… you have."

"We haven't got time for people like you." Vince smirked cruelly. He cocked his gun and pointed it at Howard.

"You ready Vince?" Hitcher asked.

"Mh-hmm." Vince nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Right. We'll leave you alone." Hitcher left followed by Bollo. Vince locked the door behind them and allowed his head to fall heavily against the wood.


	5. Chapter 5

Silence filled the room, broken only by a heavy sigh. Howard wasn't sure who'd produced it but he didn't like it either way. Howard stared at the back of Vince's head as the younger man rubbed the back of his neck slowly.

"You okay?" Howard asked, getting up from the sofa. It seemed strange to be asking a man who was about to put a bullet in his skull whether they were okay but Vince looked pale, paler than normal and he was trembling furiously.

"Don't" Vince whispered.

"Don't, what?" Howard asked, moving closer to the younger man and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't…" Vince shook him off sharply. "be so nice to me."

"I'm not nice. I'm confused but I'm not nice." He said, replacing his hand on the shoulder.

Vince smacked his hand away and suddenly span around, holding the gun in Howard's face.

"Okay." the older man whispered, taking a few silent paces backwards. "Okay. Calm down."

"How are you so calm? I betrayed you." he spat angrily. His words so quiet Howard daren't breath in case he missed them. "Why don't you hate me?"

"I could never hate you." Howard whispered truthfully. They stared at each other for a moment. Without conscious control, their feet moved them closer together, they were like two ends of a magnet being pulled together by a strong, invisible force, communicating only with the gaze from their eyes. So close. Howard wanted to lean forward and kiss the younger man (like in reverse of their first kiss all those years ago) but he wasn't as brave (or crazy) as Vince and he was still staring down the barrel of a gun, so he did nothing and allowed the weird unvoiced exchange to continue.

Then, Vince whispered; "Hit me." A look on his face which suggested he was surprised to hear himself say it.

"What?" Howard replied in the same stunned tone.

"Hit me!" he suddenly screamed.

"I…I ca-"

"Please Howard. I need you to hate me. I need to hate you."

"Why?"

"Because I have to kill you!" He pressed the gun into Howard's chest hard and determinedly.

"Fine." Howard answered steadily.

"How are you so calm?!" Vince screamed again. Howard didn't know what was happening, Vince was acting crazy, crazier than he'd ever seen him before. He was still trembling, his eyes were blazing, hot tears creating a thin film over his iris'.

"Look Vince." Howard said, his voice low, quiet and much steadier than he'd ever believed it could be. "I've never given two shits about anyone before you. It was all about me, everyone out to please me, everyone terrified of me and then… then there was you." he almost chuckled at the memory. "A cocky little shit, who actually tried to mug me! And then when you found out who I was, nothing changed. You just continued to try and infuriate me but instead of being infuriated I just fell in hopelessly in love." Vince just stared ahead, his face contorted in a way that suggested he was trying to remain emotionless. "I've never been in love before Vince. I've never needed anyone but I need you and I guess that if you don't need me then, you might as well pull that trigger."

Vince swallowed heavily and nodded softly, a solitary tear escaping and running down his cheek. His finger went to the trigger. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as a few more tears were forced from his eyes rolling silently towards his chin. _This is it. _he thought.

Howard watched Vince, his movements were cold and calculated. Vince was trembling furiously and Howard could tell he was terrified but he looked determined. Just like Howard had been just before his first kill, except for one massive, tiny difference; the tears. Howard closed his eyes tight and waited. _This is it._ he thought.

Suddenly, Howard heard the clattering of metal on floor, he opened an eye. Vince was stood, head in hands, gun by his feet, sobbing silently.

"Hey." Howard said alarmed, "Wha-" but he was cut off as Vince leant forward and buried his head in his chest, weeping a wet patch of tears into the older man's shirt. Howard wrapped his arm's around Vince's thin shoulders and held him close. He didn't have a clue what was going on but at this moment, it didn't matter. Vince needed him, so he was there.

"Howard." Vince whispered, breaths coming in sobbed gasps. "I…I…I can't do it."

"So don't." Howard suggested. This didn't make any sense Vince was _never _unsure of what he wanted.

"But if I don't," Vince wept, "Hitcher said he'd kill both of us."

Ah. Hitcher. "Why? I don't understand. Why is it so bad that I love you?"

"Oh for fuck's sake Howard!" Vince yelled, shoving him away hard, "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Hitcher doesn't want you dead coz you're weak or in love or any other bullshit reason he gave. I mean Bollo's married."

"He is?! How do you know that?"

"Hitcher threatened to kill her if he didn't go along with this plan."

"What?"

"Yeah bu-"

"Sorry, who the hell married Bollo?" Howard interrupted, suddenly distracted by the thought that anyone would want to spend anytime let alone their life with that humourless, revolting man.

"That's what I said. Earned myself a nice little broken nose for that."

"You said they didn't hurt you." Howard growled, eyes flicking over Vince's face quickly.

"It's really not important now Howard. The point is, Hitcher doesn't want you back because he's had ten years of getting used to being number one and doesn't want to go back to being second best just coz you're out of prison. Now he wants you dead."

"But why have _you_ got to kill me? Why doesn't he just do it himself?"

"And he said you'd be broken if I did it and he hates me. He'll do anything to make my life miserable."

"So why did you stick around?"

"He wouldn't let me go. He said he was looking out for me, reckoned you'd asked him too."

"Shit." Howard breathed, flopping back onto the sofa, head in hands. Hitcher had used his own words against him. "So…" he said eventually, thinking allowed as much as anything. "If you don't kill me, Hitcher kills us both?"

Vince nodded, sitting down heavily next to Howard. They sat in silent thought for a second.

"You know I love you, don't you?" Vince suddenly asked quietly. When Howard looked at the younger man, there was a distinct look of uncertainty in those famous blue eyes.

"I know." Howard nodded, pulling the younger man in close to him and kissing the top of his head.

"So… what do we do?"

There was no answer, just eerie quiet, whilst Howard considered all his options and then he said;

"You kill me."

"What?" Vince asked, jumping away and looking Howard as though he was mad and perhaps he was.

"Well, you kill me… one of us dies. You don't kill me, we both die and… you can't die Vince. You're too young."

"I ain't that young and you ain't that old! You're talking crazy."

"I'm not. It's the only option."

"No way, I ain't playing along with Hitcher's games. I did up 'til now, coz I figured when I told you at this point you'd have a plan… a better plan than 'shoot me'."

"I'm tired Vince. I doubt I could keep this life up anymore."

"So, we'll move to your house in Scotland and we'll go straight. I don't care just don't give up on me now."

"Vince, we're not gonna get out of this. They're at the bottom of the steps waiting for you."

"Don't you dare go all defeatist on me."

"Vince I ju-"

"Howard! Shut up! I can't kill you! I won't do it."

"So, I'll do it."

"What?"

"I'll shoot myself and you can take credit."

"No."

But Howard had already taken Vince's gun from the floor and was pressing it to his temple.

"Stop it Howard." Vince leapt to his feet, "I'm not going to watch you die."

"So look away."

"Look, who the fuck do you think you are Howard? Some star in some shitty black and white romance film? You ain't gonna win any Oscars for blowing you own brains out. No ones gonna talk about your legacy. You ain't gonna be remembered as some hero. If you pull that trigger, it's all over. No more life, no more you, no more me. Coz I swear to God Howard you pull that trigger and I'm gonna shoot myself too."

"Now, _you're_ talking crazy."

"Yeah, crazy enough to do it. I barely coped without you for ten years. The only thing that kept me alive was knowing I'd see you again. If you're going to hell, I'm coming with you."

Vince decided to exaggerate his point taking Howard's own gun off the coffee table, cocking it and holding it to his own head. He knew that the younger man wasn't joking. Vince was right, he was crazy enough to do it. He would shoot himself if he thought it would make a point and Howard suspected, he was a bit of a romantic. The thought of going out in a Romeo and Juliette double suicide would probably have been the way Vince wanted to go. Howard almost thought about laughing at him for being so over dramatic but the truth was, he was being dramatic too. The whole 'shoot me' thing; what was that if not self-made drama? It was obvious that love really did make you do stupid things. He felt like laughing at how ridiculous they were both being but nothing was really funny and the wild stare in Vince's eyes, the loaded gun in his trembling hand made him think better of it.

"Put it down." Howard said steadily, though his insides were twisting up nervously. Vince glared at him for a second before lowering the gun and began to pace ferociously. Howard watched him intently as he marched around the room, eyes blazing with furious tears.

"So what do we do?" Howard asked calmly, when Vince's pacing had slowed to a halt.

"We escape. D'you recon we could get out of the window?"

"Yeah, but the fall would kill us."

Vince seemed to think for a second and then his face lit up and he smirked at Howard.

"What?"

"I think I know how we can get out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Help me move the bed."

Seconds later, Vince had ripped up the carpet and a few of the floorboards and was proudly showing Howard a small hole.

"Where does it go?"

"Kitchen downstairs." Howard was relieved to find Vince grinning again now. "I used to use it to steal prawn crackers when I was 11."

"You know there is no way in hell I'm going to fit in there don't you."

"Yeah you will." Vince encouraged. "You'll have to. It's our only way out. So, who's going first?"

Howard closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"And you're sure there's no other way?"

Vince nodded. "I'm sure."

"Fine. I'll go first."

Vince nodded enthusiastically and as Howard lowered himself into the _very_ small passageway, Vince said;

"Howard."

The older man looked up. "What?"

"I love you." he grinned, and leant down, crushing his lips against Howard's desperately. Howard deepened the kiss as his hands roamed under Vince's shirt and pushing it up exposing the soft skin beneath.

"**OI VINCE! YOU DONE IT YET."** Hitcher screamed, accompanying it with a frantic hammering the door. They jumped apart. Suddenly, Vince pinched Howard on the back of the arm, causing him to cry out loudly with pain.

"I'm torturing him." Vince shouted.

"Ahhh! Nice work kid." Hitcher seemed satisfied.

Vince giggled silently, and whispered "Better get moving."

As Howard disappeared into the hole, Vince whistled sharply and Naboo suddenly appeared wrapping himself around Vince's neck; "Let's go Naboo." he grinned.

--

The climb downwards seemed to take ages, mainly because Howard kept getting stuck but eventually he was stood on the old kitchen worktop, helping Vince (and Naboo) down.

"Where now?" he whispered.

"Backdoor." Vince mouthed, pointing in the right direction. Howard nodded and they crept silently towards it. Neither were breathing for fear of the noise it would make. Naboo seemed to understand too. He was resolutely silent as he clung on to Vince's shoulders. Howard was just wondering how the cat managed to stay sat like a pirate's parrot on the shoulder of his master when shadows fell across the kitchen and voices from outside the door they were walking towards stopped him in his tracks. He stuck out his hand to stop Vince and the voices came again, louder and clearer.

"What's taking him so fucking long?" Hitcher was complaining.

"Maybe he's giving Moon one last pity fuck." suggested Bollo.

"Or maybe he's having second thoughts."

"Doubt it. He looked really scared when you said you were gonna kill him."

"I should've threatened him with something more."

"Like what? You threatened him with his life."

"Maybe I should have killed that fucking cat of his."

Vince's jaw dropped open and his eyes filled with fury as he pulled Naboo close to his chest, kissing the top of his head lovingly. Howard just shook his head, he'd never understand Vince's love for his cat, so he just pointed towards the other door.

"We're going to have to go through the restaurant and out the front door." he whispered.

Vince nodded, still clutching Naboo close to him. Howard got to the door and put his hand on the doorknob.

"Wait." Vince hissed as Hitcher spoke again. "Wait until they're upstairs."

"Right, that's it. Come on. I'm breaking that fucking door down. I wanna see what's going on."

"They'll be shagging."

"Well, if they are… we'll shoot 'em both." Hitcher concluded, "Come on."

Vince gave Howard his go-ahead as two sets of heavy footsteps stomped upstairs.

As they escaped on to the street, they heard a loud scream from above them. They looked up and then at each other. Vince grinned.

"Come on." laughed Howard. "Let's get out of here."

As they ran to steal Hitcher's car, Naboo sprinting ahead of them, Howard dropped his gun that had served him so well in the past and Vince dropped the knife that had served him all his life. And, with that, they left their pasts behind and grabbing each other's hand, they clung feverishly to their uncertain futures.

* * *

**OMG! It's finished! *sobs into keyboard* I'm gonna miss this story, i've enjoyed writting it sooooooooo much. lol. (maybe I'll write a lil epilogue or something).**

**Maybe you could leave me a lil review today... Go on, I'm not very well either so i'm sure they'll make me feel better. Reviews are like medication. =]**

**Seriously though, thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed! Love to you all!  
Sisi...xx**


	6. Epilogue

**I can't seem to let these two go. Lol. I just wanted to write a little bit about them in Scotland, I think mainly to give me closure, which is tragic really - lol. So, here's the epilogue!**

**Dedicated to Anyone who's read this far!**

* * *

Howard stirred sleepily and pulled the thick duvet around his shoulders. He reached out an arm to pull Vince closer. He flapped around but he couldn't feel anyone. Howard opened one heavy lid and was greeted by an empty room. This wasn't really that surprising; Vince never had a lie in. The younger man seemed to have some half-baked idea that if you stayed in bed past about eight o'clock you missed the best bit of the day. Howard still maintained that the evening was the best bit of the day, he liked curling up with a book or with Vince and just relaxing.

He got up slowly and padded over to the large double windows. Opening the curtains, he revealed the most magnificent view. He never got tired of it and every morning it took his breath away. In the distance, there were looming mountains and dancing between the crevices was a youthful stream, which flowed all the way down to the small Scottish village that they now called home. Directly below him, he could see Vince and Naboo chasing butterflies in the garden. Howard shook his head fondly, no one would ever believe that Vince was thirty next week, not that they were allowed to talk about that.

("So, the big three, zero."  
"Shut up!"  
"How d'you think I feel? I'm forty."  
"Two."  
"Alright, I'm forty-two."  
"Yeah, but it's okay for you. You're old! You look old. I'm still young!"  
"Hell you are!". They'd both sulked like stroppy teenagers after that, maybe they weren't so old after all.)

The garden itself was all beautiful flowers, garden seats and ponds with giant goldfish (giant goldfish whose main purpose in life seemed to be to annoy the hell out of Naboo). It seemed to stretch for miles and Howard wouldn't bother with it but an old woman, named Mrs White, had taken and uncanny shine to Vince and insisted she'd come and weed, plant, cut and what ever else she did every Wednesday morning to keep it in this Hallmark greeting card state. The vast lawn in the centre was beautifully kept as well, mainly because Vince liked riding the tractor-cum-lawnmower around to cut the grass, usually in patterns. At the moment, it was a delicate spiral, twirling gracefully until it peaked at the pond in the middle. Howard had laughed when Vince had shown off his handy work. Vince had sulked and eventually Howard had had to admit it was _quite _good because Vince was refusing to let him back in the house. All in all, the garden had become an integral part of their new lives, so Howard's suggestion a few months ago to 'just tarmac the whole thing' had gone down very badly.

Just then, Vince looked up and spotted Howard in the window. He waved manically. Howard raised his hand in acknowledgement and wondered whether Vince really was enthusiastic about everything.

"It's the Scottish air." Vince had claimed a while ago, "I think it makes everyone happy." And he had a point. Everyone in the village always had a cheerful smile on their face.

When they'd first moved in, Howard would never have believed they would have fitted in as well as they did. It helped, he supposed, that Vince had the ability to befriend everyone he met. Howard had laughed in his face when the younger man had suggested he was a 'people person' but annoyingly it turned out to be mostly true. Villagers were always dropping in to say 'hello' and he did seem to get on with everyone. Although Howard remembered fondly the day Vince had sworn at the vicar when he had asked if they wanted to join his parish.

"You're going to hell now." Howard had muttered in his ear as they started to walk away.

"As though killing and thieving ain't enough to condemn me to eternal damnation."

"You know," The vicar had called after them, "God loves all his children and accepts them readily if they repent."

"What's repent mean?"

"Regret." Howard had supplied.

"Nah." Vince had grinned up at Howard, "I don't regret nothing I've done."

He'd tried to hold Howard's hand then but, just like all those years ago, Howard shook him off. Howard didn't want them to be known as the two gay blokes at number 6. Though he needn't have worried, it seemed most people in the village knew them as "That nice Vince Noir and his grumpy boyfriend."

"It's pretty accurate really." Vince had beamed one evening when he'd told Howard.

"No it's not. I'm not a boy, I'm forty-two. And I'm not grumpy."

"You are, compared to everyone else here you're as miserable as the Grinch… and the Nazis. You're a Nazi Grinch."

"Thanks."

"I reckon I know why though." Vince had concluded, settling down on the sofa, his head in Howard's lap.

"Why?" The older man had asked as he'd patiently brushed his fingers through Vince's long hair. Well, he'd only moan if he didn't.

"You miss it, don't you? The thrill, the danger, the rush of adrenaline. You miss being a mysterious villain."

"Do you?"

Vince thought for a second and then said; "No. I don't. Not even one bit."

"Me neither."

And he didn't, not all the time. Now and again, when Vince was off cutting some old biddy's hair and Howard was left alone with nothing to do but think, he would miss the tension of always having to look over your shoulder, the buzz of nearly being caught and the intensity of the old life but he was happy enough. He certainly didn't miss it enough to risk losing everything he'd built up for himself here. And Vince loved it here, that much was obvious. He loved the fact that he could walk around freely and not have to think about where his next meal was coming from, or where the best place would be to mug someone. Howard supposed it was because Vince and Howard got into crime for different reasons. For Howard, it was the lure of the thrill and highlife, the big payouts for minimal work. For Vince, it was a necessity to stay alive, to keep his home and eat regularly. Howard had been greedy, whereas Vince had been desperate.

"Hey!" Vince beamed, when Howard finally stepped into the garden, dashed with warm august sun. "You've been sleeping for _ages._"

"Mmm." was all Howard had chance to say before Vince had attacked his mouth with his own.

"So," the younger man smiled, as he drew away for some much needed air, arms still firmly wrapped around Howard's waist "what are we going to do today?"

There were so many possibilities each of which was sickeningly sweeter than the last. "I don't know."

"Because I was thinking we could have a barbeque and invite the village."

"You think we should invite everyone in the village into our house."

"No, into our garden."

"Right, wait. You think we should cook for everyone in the village?"

"No."

"Good."

"I think _you _should cook for everyone in the village."

"What?"

"Well, I'm not going near that barbeque again. I singed my hair last time." Vince whined, inspecting the ends of his hair as though just the memory of the incident would have caused damage to his precious locks.

"Only because you used an entire bottle of lighter fluid." Howard chuckled fondly.

"You didn't tell me how much I needed."

"I might have known it'd be my fault."

"Yup."

"Well, I don't know if I want to barbeque lots of burgers and stuff."

"Tough, you are."

"What?"

"I've already invited everyone."

"You've what!? When?"

"This morning, I was going to ask you but you were asleep."

_Typical_, Howard groaned internally as he made a mental note to wake up earlier in future.

"Anyway," Vince continued, "Meat's in the fridge and I've moved the barbeque from under the trees because Mrs White said we'd set fire to them."

"That would be a shame." Howard muttered sarcastically, earning himself a hard thump on the shoulder.

"Don't be so ungrateful, Rosemary does a brilliant job here."

"Rosemary? Is that her name?" scoffed Howard.

"Yeah, I know and she's into plants… I get it. It's unfortunate. It'd be like calling you… Revolver coz you're into guns."

"Well, no, not quite, because naming a child Revolver would probably be classed as child abuse."

"Whatever." Vince sighed, manoeuvring himself and Howard's arm so that he could see the older man's watch. "Damn. I'm going to be late."

"For what?"

"I've entered Naboo for 'Best Cat In Show'"

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. Reckon he's gonna win too."

"He's got no fur!"

"Well… no, but he's obedient and stuff."

"He looks like a dog ate him and then spat him back out again because he tasted of shit."

"Howard!" Vince looked indignant and punched Howard on the shoulder again.

"Will you stop doing that?" Howard growled, pinning Vince's arms at his side.

"Ooo." Vince giggled girlishly, "Mr Moon, you are sexy when you're angry."

"Yeah?" smirked Howard, pulling Vince closer forcefully.

Vince nodded, eyes wide and innocent, nibbling sexily on his bottom lip. Howard just smiled and closed the minuscule gap between them. He was amazed that kissing Vince never got boring. It still gave him butterflies, it still felt amazing, it still felt like that very first time in the attic. Howard deepened the kiss and felt a small surge of pride as Vince groaned into his mouth. They fell awkwardly to the floor, hands started to roam, mouths started to explore. Howard was just considering whether there was enough protection from the road to just go for it right here on the lawn when a loud cough stopped them in their tracks.

They both looked up.

"Alright Nick." Vince grinned, giving Howard one last peck on the cheek before pushing himself to his feet and straightening his attire.

"Are you ready?" the man called Nick asked as he lifted up a scrawny, greyish-brown, patchy cat with dead black eyes and one ear.

"What the hell is that?" Howard hissed in Vince's ear as he refastened his belt quickly.

"That," Vince grinned, calling Naboo to stand at his ankles, "is the only other entrant in the cat show."

"It's hideous."

"Told you Naboo was going to win." Vince beamed, "You ready Nick?" he asked, returning his attention to the blushing man by the gate.

"Yeah."

"Cool." He smiled at Howard, kissing his cheek again. "I'll see you later."

"Right. Erm, good luck I guess."

"Awwww. You're so soft sometimes."

"Shut up." Now it was Howard's turn to blush.

"Don't forget to barbeque."

"I won't." He sighed as he watched Vince positively skip down the road followed by Nick, Naboo and another equally disgusting cat.

He groaned as he heaved hundreds of burgers, hotdogs and chicken legs from the fridge to the barbeque. He swore loudly when he burnt his hand on the side of the barbeque and was all ready to kill Vince for organising this stupid bloody barbeque when he got home. But, when Vince and Naboo actually returned with a blue ribbon, a bottle of Champagne and £500, all thoughts of murder were wiped from his mind. And, maybe it _was_ the Scottish air, but when they started doing a 'victory dance' around the garden, Howard couldn't help but sing and dance along with them.

Yes, Howard missed the old life but this new one was so much better.


End file.
